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Kerri Ni Dochartaigh
when confronted with a box that holds only a pair of scissors (of a
cross-bladed nature; Roman in origin) what she seems to do is becoming ever
more puzzling.
she is, of course, being watched at all times during
the experiment.
But we can fathom neither what she is doing, nor why.
she starts off by reciting the alphabet backwards.
next she moves around the top of the box. side to side as if training as the understudy to some
crab; disjointed and out of rhythm.
the stage that follows this is the one that puzzles
us the most. she falls under the age old spell of
slumber, right there atop the box; before our very eyes.
in her sleep she first tries to fight the dreams
that filter through the gaps (fear not; we have been prepared for this point
of the narrative from day dot.)
and then it happens, time and time again. the girl begins to talk of the albatross. over and over she tells us that she is delivering this
message from the inside of a head.
From inside of the head of the albatross.
Kerri ní Dochartaigh writes stories
and poems.
She lives in Edinburgh, cycles a pink bicycle and has a website.
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